Where To Next?
by Jinxed-Wood
Summary: Martha Jones isn't sure if she believes in happy ever afters anymore... Spoilers for End of Time. Martha/Mickey


It began with the little things, like how he wheedled his way onto her couch on that first night. She recalled, with perfect clarity, every moment of that evening. How the tea had grown cold as he told her about his gran, who he had buried twice, and his life on another Earth, where Zeppelins ruled the skies and Britain was ruled by a president instead of a prime minister.

Dawn has already broken when Martha Jones broke one of her own cardinal rules. She told him about the year she lived in hell, and the monsters that haunted her sleep; the fairytale nightmare that had held the entire Earth in its maw and bled it dry. She told him things she shouldn't have. Things she'd never told Tom.

Because they were classified.

Because it was never the right moment.

Because he wouldn't understand.

Martha had watched as Mickey felt his way around her tiny London kitchen, making a fresh pot of tea. No shock, no protests, no demands for more information; just acceptance.

"Jack mentioned that I've been reported dead," he said casually. "Think I'll get away with a Mark Twain?"

Martha smirked. "What? Reports of your death have been greatly exaggerated?"

A mischievous grin spread across his face. "Guess not," he said. "Coma guy it is, then. Any chance you could help me out with that, Doctor Jones?"

"Oh, I might have a few thoughts, Mr Smith."

"I thought you might," he drawled. She hadn't thought it possible, but his grin grew wider, and she couldn't help but answer it.

**~~~*~~*~~*~~~**

Mickey Smith quickly became a permanent fixture in her life, much to the consternation of her superiors

"The man's a loose cannon," Colonel said, with a long suffering sigh.

"The man has a name," Martha said dryly. "And he has had more experience with Cyberman than the rest of us put together."

"But did he really really have to blow up half the docklands?"

"If by half the docklands you mean the Cyberman manufacturing installation masquerading as import export business, I'm guessing yes" Martha said flatly, remembering the death of her cousin at Canary Wharf. "Those things are almost impossible to get rid of, once they've got a foothold. You know that."

"Still," the Colonel muttered. "He may have to be taken in hand."

It was then that Martha Jones realised Jack was right; it was time to leave UNIT behind her. Tom had been ecstatic when she IMed him her decision.

**That's brilliant, darling,** he messaged back. **Does that mean you'll be coming out to Africa soon, like we discussed? **

Martha bit her lip, glancing up from her laptop. To be honest, the thought hadn't occurred to her. Sure, Tom had muttered something about the possibility the last time he was home, but she hadn't taken it seriously. There was too much going on, and her family to consider. _"Isn't Tom family too?"_ a little voice in the back of her head asked.

**We'll talk about it in a few weeks, when you get here for Christmas, **she replied eventually.

Sometimes, she felt like such a coward.

**~~~*~~*~~*~~~**

As a lover's reunion, it left much to be desired. Mickey answering the door in his boxer shorts while she was in the shower probably didn't help.

_"Hello there!"_ she heard Mickey say, moments after the doorbell rang. Martha relaxed into the hot spray. Mickey would keep them occupied until she was finished. _"You must be Martha's Tom. Pleased to meet you!"_

_"Uh..."_

"Blimey!" she cursed, scrabbling at the taps. The water went deathly cold, and she screeched as she jumped out of the shower.

There was a sharp rap on the door._ "Martha, you all right in there?"_ Mickey asked.

"Oh, I'm just...tickety boo," she lied, her teeth chattering as she quickly towelled down.

"_Your Tom is here,_" he volunteered.

Oh really, she would _never_ have guessed. "Be right with you," she called out.

She found them in the kitchen, Tom looking bemused and slightly uncomfortable, Mickey slouched in the chair opposite him, chattering away about the weather and ignoring the sharp, metaphorical, chill in the room. He was enjoying this _way_ too much, in Martha's opinion. "Mickey, find somewhere else to be," she said sharply. "And put some clothes on!"

"Yes, ma'am," he teased, as he stood. "I have to go and see a man about a dog, anyway."

Martha opened her mouth to ask if the dog was green and had the two extra legs indicative of the indigenous species of 47 Ursae Majoris, when she caught the expression on Tom's face and snapped it shut. "See you later, yeah?"

A few minutes later, she heard the front door of the flat close quietly; leaving her and Tom alone together for the first time in nearly four months.

"Martha, why is that guy answering your door in his boxer shorts?" Tom asked, his tone light but his meaning clear.

"That's Mickey, I told you about him," Martha said.

"You told me he would be crashing on your couch for a couple of weeks until he got a place of his own. That was over a month ago."

"Well, hello to you too," Martha said wryly.

"Sorry," Tom said tiredly. "I've spent the last ten hours in a cramped airplane seat, and I didn't get any sleep. Is it okay if I take a nap here?"

She hesitated; just for a moment, but she hesitated nonetheless - and he noticed.

"I've kind of been expecting this," he admitted quietly. "Even over the phone you've been...off."

"I know," she murmured. " I don't know why."

He gave her a long look. "Don't you?" he asked. "I never really stood a chance, did I?"

It wasn't a really a question, Martha knew that, but she answered just the same. "It was wonderful, for a while," she said. "And so were you. You still _are_. You're wonderful, and kind, and sweet--"

"But it isn't enough."

"No," Martha admitted. "It isn't. I though it would be, but..." She shrugged, not able to find the words.

"Are you in love with him?"

Martha blinked; what was he talking about? The Doctor?

"That Mickey Smith guy. Are you in love with him?" he asked again, when she didn't answer.

Martha let out a surprised laugh. "What? Mickey? He's just a mate!"

"Who walks around your flat in his underwear."

"You're reading things into it that aren't there!"

"Martha, love, I think you may be not reading enough."

**~~~*~~*~~*~~~**

It took her another two weeks to figure out what Tom had meant by that remark. She got home late that night after a long shift at the local hospital, and found Mickey and Tish giggling together in the kitchen. A knot twisted in her stomach and it didn't go away.

The next morning, she asked him if he was having any luck finding a place.

"I'm still working on it," he said, with a half smile, and Martha returned it with tight smile of her own, suddenly not sure what game they were playing.

The day after that, she found a Dalek in the hospital cleaning cupboard and, as she threw a bucket of soapy water over his head and swung live wire into its path, she realised one very simple thing.

Some things you just can't fight, some things were just meant to be.

"Well, bugger that," Martha muttered. She stormed out of the hospital, ignoring the UNIT team that had arrived. They only just remembered she'd resigned from the force when their hands were already half way to their foreheads.

She wondered if she had done the right thing; leaving UNIT and then leaving Tom. It had felt so right at the time, but now she wondered if she had any real place in this world. Maybe she had left her _real_ self on the Valiant somewhere.

"Well, bugger that too," she told herself. "I'll just make my own place."

**~~~*~~*~~*~~~**

The first time Mickey kissed her, they had been on another world, with three moons and a night sky gleaming with stars. It would have been quite romantic if it weren't for the fact that they were also surrounded by a horde of angry carnivorous aliens and Mickey had just been shot through the leg.

The second time they kissed, it was on her couch...which was an achievement in itself

They got married in a registry office because their church wedding had been trashed by a squadron of very angry Zygons looking for someone called Lucie, and the world very nearly lost its soul while they were on their honeymoon.

Home was a darker place when they got back.

Was it a happy ever after? Martha wasn't sure if she believed in those any more. Too many of her friends had died, and the rest had made sacrifices they found hard to live with. But she was happy, and she loved her husband.

So, yeah, she guessed it was as good a time as any to have an ending.

**~~~FINIS~~~**


End file.
